I don't mind if you call me out, Mr. Sun. But when you go after my son -- watch out:
Solem stultum et morum nunc canoTake that, you mewling facsimile of a psuedonymous humorist. Now beg for your translation.
Qui animo scribis insano.
Si liberum increpes
Sine mora invenies
Meum conditum pedem in ano.
10 comments:
Now we're talking. Give me a chance to do it myself, first. I think it translates to:
"I was unpopular in High School"
I didn't take Latin in High School.
Don't you remember me? I'm the guy who stomped on your lunchbox.
You, I seem to remember, were the High Q team manager.
I am requesting a translation now, because here is the problem: I engage you in these things in order to raise the level of discourse at my juvenile blog, but all I am doing is sharpening your trash-talking skills. I see through your Machiavellian ploy, and I won't play your sick game!
You guys are the best. Touche Mr. Wharton!
Here's a rather free though bowdlerized translation:
To call you a fool would be kind,
'cause you write with an unstable mind.
If you threaten my son
You'll be all out of fun
'Cause my foot will bisect your behind.
Ohhh my . . . an unforseen attack from the Louisville branch of the family! The Whartons are triple-teaming Mr. Sun!
That's gotta hurt.
An observation from Pennsylvania:
A classics professor named Wharton
Found calling his son out unsportin’
So in English and Latin
He bashed the Sun’s hat in
And silenced the solar cavortin’!.
Now that the Pennsylvania Dutch branch of the family has entered the fray, Mr. Sun has been reduced to brown dwarf status.
Whence Sun? Nay David the beating was so severe he has been extinguished. Who would have imagined the Latin card would be played. He is thus a black hole.
Heh. I spent the weekend outside, and I feel great. So great, in fact, I will wait a few more months until I once again rattle the Wharton cage. When I do, the horror will wash over you until you can feel the dread.
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